


unsafe safe.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Sigils
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 18:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: Stiles used to think the only thing he could do on nights like tonight was huddle as close to Scott as he could, kissing him for dear life becausethey did it,they did it and they are both okay and alive and so is everyone else.Now, Stiles has a backup method, too, for when even that isn’t enough.





	unsafe safe.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BansheeLydia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/gifts).



> For Aisleah, have a continuation of your gift, a fluffy witch!Stiles + Alpha Scott AU. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to my lovefriend Ellis for the witchy beta <3

It has been five years since Deaton sat Stiles down in the clinic to have a conversation about  _ intent _ that Stiles eventually realized was a runaround conversation leading to the endpoint of ‘by the way, have you ever considered maybe being a witch’?  It has been four years since Cora saw  _ sigil _ in Stiles’ search history and died laughing when she found out that Stiles’ primary supernatural information gathering source was google.  It has been two years since Stiles started actually feeling like a real witch, instead of a hack who throws shit together and crosses his fingers that his haphazard mess of a spell actually does anything.

It’s been a lot longer since Scott was bitten.  Since Stiles was thrust into scrambling into chaos with his best friend in the world, trying to get through unpredictable situations unscathed.  He held himself up as the brains of the operation for ages, even when it wasn’t true, because it made him feel like he had some measure of control.  He wanted to feel like more than just a liability, more than just the weak, helpless human that was only at the table because his best friend (and then his boyfriend) was the alpha, and wanted him there.

Stiles feels more useful now, most of the time.  But on nights like tonight, Stiles still can’t entirely escape the helplessness.  It’s always the most human of errors that get to him, a dead cell phone that nearly leads to Mason being kidnapped, or a mistimed accidental nap that nearly causes their intricate plan to fall through.  It’s the things that happen because they are all more human than not.  Scott always has a backup plan, because he is Scott.  But that worries Stiles, too, sometimes; there is only so much weight that a single alpha can bear, only so many near misses before something inevitably goes wrong in a way they can’t fix.  In a way that Scott inevitably will take responsibility for.

Stiles used to think the only thing he could do on those nights was huddle as close to Scott as he could, kissing him for dear life because  _ they did it _ ,  _ they did it and they are both okay and alive and so is everyone else _ .

Now, Stiles has a backup method, too, for when even that isn’t enough.

The original drawing was a sloppy sketch in the margins in a chemistry notebook, a series of interlocking letters that he added flourishes too.  He was just getting the hang of drawing his own sigils, but by that point he had learned that it was his own distinctions and intentions that mattered, more than whether the sigil was necessarily perfect.  He’s fine tuned and upgraded since then, but the core of it is the same, adding in the letters to the extent he can, s a f e, Scott’s pack tattoo carefully worked into the design.  

By now, Stiles has it committed to memory.  There have been a lot of nights like tonight when Stiles gazes at the ceiling, his head spinning ugly what if’s as Scott dozes next to him in their bed, restless but deep in sleep.  Deep enough in sleep that Stiles can reach out, gently, and settle his hand on Scott’s arm, right where the edge of the sleeve of Scott’s sleeping shirt meets the bottom ring of Scott’s tattoo.  Deep enough in sleep that Stiles only hears his boyfriend’s slow and even breathing as he carefully, meticulously traces the sigil on Scott’s arm, again and again and again, his finger barely brushing Scott’s skin.   

It is a soothing kind of stimulation, the feeling of having something to do with his hands.  The feeling of being useful, of clinging with every bit of space in his head to the thought that the sigil will protect Scott, that the sigil will keep Scott safe, that Scott will be safe.  Having to believe it so strongly himself is its own form of convincing, easing his anxiety until he can relax enough to sleep.

Most nights, Scott sleeps through it.  Wakes up feeling rested, commenting that he slept better than usual.

Tonight, Stiles’ finger is tracing the last part of his third sigil when Scott stirs.

Stiles frantically pulls his arm back away from Scott, nearly hitting his face with his hand from the force and abruptness of the movement.  Scott shifts a little and then settles, and Stiles waits a beat, counts his breaths and listens to Scott’s before he carefully moves his hand back to Scott’s arm.

The second his finger traces through a full sigil, Stiles knows he has made a serious miscalculation.  Scott’s eyes crack open, the warm brown barely visible in the dim light.

“You’re doing witch things,” Scott says, his voice low and rough.  Stiles nearly offers to go get him water.  “You seem anxious, are you okay?”

“Am I allowed to say no?” Stiles asks.

“Of course you are,” Scott says seriously.  Stiles doesn’t think it really counts if they both know that Stiles would be lying, but he appreciates that Scott still prioritizes Stiles being able to choose how upfront and explicit he is being about his feelings.

“I love you,” Stiles says.  “I don’t want to ever feel like I didn’t do enough to keep you safe.  You’re an alpha, if anyone needs the extra help it’s you.”

Even at four in the morning, even with Scott’s gaze bleary, Stiles can see clearly the way Scott’s gaze shifts from concern to something much, much softer.  Some of the tension in Stiles’ shoulders loosens, because he knows that that means Scott gets it.  That Scott gets him.

“If you need a sigil canvas, you don’t have to wait until I’m asleep,” Scott says gently.  “But if it helps, I trust you.  I always trust you.”

Stiles leans in and kisses him, caring less about bad breath than about the need to show Scott how much he appreciates every ounce of Scott’s empathy and understanding.  But when he pulls away, he shows Scott, carefully tracing the sigil on Scott’s arm for him to see.

“What does it mean?” Scott asks, staring at the space on his arm where Stiles’ fingers brushed without leaving a mark.  

“It means safe,” Stiles says, marking Scott’s arm again, more slowly this time.  Letting Scott feel every part of the design.  “For yourself and for the pack.  And for me.”

Scott kisses Stiles and then pulls him in close, breathing with him and being with him as Stiles goes through his usual ritual.  It is even more calming having Scott there and awake and accepting it, endorsing the magic in his own way by pulling his sleeve up and baring his arm for Stiles more fully.  Before too long, Stiles’ eyelids start to get heavy, and he kisses Scott’s pack tattoo when he finishes with his last spell.

When Stiles opens his eyes the next morning, it is to the gentle press of Scott’s finger against Stiles’ arm.

Scott isn’t a witch, but Stiles doesn’t doubt for a second the power of his intent to keep Stiles safe, too.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](http://sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com).


End file.
